Logic in Paroxysms (SpockOC Fanfiction)
by OpheliaVonStein
Summary: Commander Spock follows Starfleet protocol like no other. However, would certain attraction to medical student Cadet Xy'thia change anything? Rules are meant to be broken, especially in the name of love. Rated T for later chapters. Spock/OC, Bones/OC, Chekov, Uhura, Love/hate with Kirk.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I - Watch Out, the Russian is Coming

The morning of my first day back at Starfleet Academy, I got to experience the most annoying and blatantly outrageous things one can ever experience, whilst living in the Academy's accommodations. That being the blinds! I know to value a good night's sleep, and enjoy waking up naturally. However, the lighting situation isn't exactly helpful in those terms. At night my room is too light, in the morning it is too dark.

Although I had decided it would be worthwhile to upgrade into the Presidential Quarters this year, it put a slight strain into my bank account - and the inability of the staff to fix a minor inconvenience was unacceptable. I glance at my blaring alarm clock. 0740 hours. I was ten minutes behind schedule, not a particularly good omen.

As I lazily rolled out of my bed, and mumbled "Lights - 20%", I noticed the aroma of coffee seeping through to my bedroom. That instantly lifted my mood. Perhaps I wouldn't be late today. My roommate, Kalique, must have prepared breakfast after one of her usual morning runs. Stumbling into the bathroom, I caught my reflection in the mirror covering the entirety of the wall. I smiled. My dark brown hair wasn't a wild mess this morning - thank the lord!

This meant that the time permitted me to do a full face of makeup. My appearance was something I highly cared about. Grabbing my navy blue eyeliner, I was lucky enough to pull off two identical wings so sharp they could kill a man. Followed by champagne and chocolate eyeshadow. Kalique always criticises me for doing my liner first and then eyeshadow - but I have my reasons why. Foundation, contour, highlight, blush, and check I was done!

I contemplated what type of hairstyle to do. Since I decided that I will wear a dress today, a high ponytail seemed appropriate. Once I was done, I grabbed my satchel handbag and put my glasses on top of my head (a needed accessory I never forget), glanced at the alarm clock - 0800. Thankfully I was right on schedule.

"Good morning, babygirl," exclaimed Kalique, as I walked into the living room and kitchen area, "Don't you look like you've just come off the runway."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "Oh yeah, absolutely. Says the one oozing sex appeal enough for any human to last a century."

"Just being honest, hun. Betazoids are wired that way," she winked, handing me a plate filled with a cheesy omelette, avocado toast, and fried tomatoes.

My stomach growled at the sight of this deliciousness. Kalique sure knew how to spoil her best friend. As I ate, she watched me with a small smirk dancing upon her lips, making me raise one eyebrow in question. She shook her head, but decided to give in after a while: "'Thia, I am really not supposed to tell you anything, but I found out somebody may have changed the course you are taking this year.."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, grabbing my PADD, checking to see whether my schedule was already online this morning.

"Kirk."

That one name was enough to tell me everything. Not too long ago, the infamous playboy James T. Kirk made advances towards me, but failed. His charm was something other woman may fall for easily, so the only sane thing I could do was reject him. Long story short, since I told him that I would never go for a guy like him, Kirk did everything in his power to get my attention.

"I may have overheard yesterday, I was visiting his flatmate - just so you know, that he switched your elective from Exobiology to Xenolinguistics." Kalique stated matter of factly, but continued after seeing outraged expression, "It might be destiny! Just think about the beautiful blue eyed babies you two could have!"

"Okay no. Stop. Never. That can't be true at all," I exclaimed, logging in my details. Clicking on the Timetable in my option, the page appeared as such:

Xy'thia-Ksenia Konstantinovna Startseva

 **Thursday**

First Period: Molecular Biology – Instructor Leonard McCoy - Room 245.2

Second Period: Xenolinguistics – Professor S.T Spock - Room 080.5

"Jim, that fucktard!" I exclaimed seeing my timetable, "Professor Spock? I didn't know he taught this subject..." I continued rather to myself than Kalique, noticing her newly appeared smirk because of my shift of emotions. I had always admired the Commander, but never mustered the courage to approach him. The only reason for my delight was because maybe this was an opportunity that might be beneficial in my professional advancement ... as a science officer. Totally.

"Tell me, T, you won't by chance be wearing those fabulous heels with the red bottoms today, will you?" asked Kalique, her tone hopeful.

"No, no. I won't. I am wearing a dress that barley goes past my ass – I'm going for boots. That much attention to my legs isn't exactly necessary on the _first_ day."

"Have I ever told you that I love how your sense of style. The way your blue dress complements your eyes..." she trailed off.

"You can borrow my heels Kalique. No need to kiss ass," I told her with a wink.

"Perfect. Common, we'll be late," she exclaimed, throwing me the keys to her car, "And you're driving. Your Russian soul secretly thrives for danger."

 _My Russian Soul, hah_ , I thought to myself, _interesting observation._ Sure, I have Russian heritage, and speak the language, but have had an identity crisis regarding where I belong the entirety of my life. One of the main reasons why I joined Starfleet was to be of something bigger and find myself. Travelling the galaxies, abundance of planets, encountering a variety of species and extra-terrestrials. That way, I was simply a human, with origins from Earth. An Earthling, if you will.

However, to come to that goal and be a crew member of the greatest starship the _U.S.S Enterprise_ , I have to work my ass of and excel all expectation. Perhaps that way I could live up to my family legacy. Not just because I carry the name Startseva, but because I am deserving of what I achieve by myself.

Catching the keys Kalique threw at me, I rushed out the door sprinting slightly to catch the elevator. Secretly, I had done that on purpose. Seeing Kalique jog after me in the 10 inch heels, whilst yelling profanities at me, was absolutely hilarious. Girls will be girls!

Reaching Kalique's shiny emerald car, I started the engine immediately, stepping on the gas pedal just as she had sat herself down comfortably. Air-traffic at this time of morning was thankfully, unusually-so uneventful and fast. We were at the Academy's main campus within 10 minutes. Kalique and I parted ways to go to our respected classes, planning to meet up during lunch at the Infinity Lounge – an area designated _only_ to professors or those higher in command. Usually that went hand in hand. But I had been granted the right to have access as well, with a plus one, due to my academic excellence. Starfleet has its perks.

My first period of the day was delightful. Our instructor was Leonard McCoy, or Bones – as I preferred to call him, a good friend of mine and fellow cadet. Him being a qualified human doctor, he was granted a teaching position, but still had to attend the academy. To be a doctor on a starship, one had to learn the biology of every species under the sun. At least he could check off human so far. I knew that he had teaching capabilities, unlike the previous professor, an Andorian woman who cared nothing for the subject. But it was the next class, Xenolinguistics, that I was completely unsure of what to expect. Something told me, in the pit of my stomach, that it something would happen. Perhaps I would finally unleash my dragon on James Tiberius Kirk.

I smiled to myself at the literal thought of a Jim trying to scramble away from me, as I turned into a fire-breathing dragon. But sadly, however, I didn't have any shapeshifting capabilities. At least _not yet_! For that I would have to wait a few decades until the progression of science can reach such extremes.

As I walked into the lecture hall for Xenolinguistics I was greeted by a wave of cadets, trying to get their perfect seat somewhere not too close to the professor, but also not completely at the back. Thankfully I was able to spot a familiar face in the crowd. Nyota Uhura. She was seated in the first row, exactly in the middle, just how I liked it.

"Hiya Uhura. I am so glad you're in this class. I didn't even sign up for this elective. Somebody hacked into my system and changed my courses," I rambled to her just as I took my seat.

"Hey, you, it'll be fine. I think you'll learn to enjoy this class," she assured me, sending me a warm smile, just as the door closed and the professor came in going to his stand, indicating the lesson had begun.

"Good morning cadets," he started with an authoritative and cool tone, "I am Professor Spock. Welcome to Advanced Xenolinguistics 2.0. This course for the majority is an elective. Nonetheless I expect a 100% from each and every one of you. If my expectations are not met, don't be surprised receiving a failing cond-." The professor's introductory speech was cut short by a very noisy entrance of the one cadet I was hoping not to see today.

"Shall we take an example out of the current situation," continued the professor, gesturing at the dirty blonde with piercing turquoise eyes and an arrogant smirk dancing on his lips, inquiring the Cadet's name.

"Jim, Jim Kirk."

"Well, Cadet Kirk, tardiness will not be tolerated. First day, I will let it slide. Find a seat. Without any other disruptions I expect," stated the Commander, his expression stoic, yet a slight hint of annoyance was present. Although, I felt like I was the only one who may have noticed that. I had learned about Vulcan mannerisms previously. Yet, his emotive glace seemed to be out of the typical Vulcan character.

Kirk jogged up a few stairs, only to turn around, walk back down and sit next to Nyota and myself in the first row. I heard her let out an audible exasperate sigh, and saw out of my peripheral vision the stupid grin on Kirk's face. He was staring at us. Letting several minutes pass, I shot him the dirtiest look I could muster, but he wasn't fazed.

All of my inner instincts told me that he was going to do everything in his power to antagonise me. Simply for his own pleasure.

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any character's from Star Trek - only my OC's.**

What are your thought's so far? I have many more chapters that I am currently editing. Should I post them as well?


	2. Chapter 2

LOGIC IN PAROXYSMS

 **Chapter II - The Vulcan Attitude to Childlike Behaviours**

The lesson flowed in a coherent manner. It wasn't hard to follow, but the professor had my undivided attention, considering I felt that I needed a strong foundation to the course if I wished to succeed. Each sentence the Commander spoke transcribed itself into a beautiful bullet-pointed cursive note, each of which I intended to study later. My fountain pen glided along my leather-bound notebook transferring the ink from my crystalline bottle, into slanted elegance.

As I went to dip my pen into my ink, I suddenly hit the table instead, a soft _click_ emitted itself from the metal tip as didn't meet its designated destination. I hissed, seeing Kirk was holding the small bottle between his thumb and forefinger instead. That arrogant smirk still present. But his eyes seemed to display a certain glee, almost that of a victory.

I raised my hand, attracting the attention of Professor Spock. He raised his already slanted eyebrows, curious, considering he didn't ask a question, nor would it have been the most appropriate time for students to ask for clarifications. After all, Professor Spock was in the middle of an explanation.

"Yes Cadet?" said the Commander, accepting my disruption.

"I am sorry for interrupting, sir. However, I am put in the most unfortunate situation…" I stated, glancing at Kirk who was slightly shaking his head. The Professors expression begged me to continue. "It seems that Kirk has the intention of disrupting my learning. You see… he stole my ink."

"He stole your ink?" repeated the Professor, disbelief in his tone. It was understandable. Firstly, because it was such a childish situation. Aside from that, it wasn't common for students in the 23rd century to handwrite their notes – unless it contained extensive calculations, like for math, physics, chemistry and the like. We were given various technological equipment by the Academy for a reason.

"Cadet Kirk. Give her her ink back, and I ask you move to away from Cadet…?" stated the Commander. It seemed petty now of me, to tattle on such an incident.

"Xy'thia," I stated

"Move away from Cadet Xy'thia," he instructed, directing the next question towards me, "That is a first name, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cadet. What is your last name? We are in a professional environment."

"My last name?" I played dumb, "I… I- yeah no. Sir, I'd rather not."

"Very well, Cadet. Please stay behind after this lesson. Now, if there aren't any more interruptions, attention back to the lecture," the Commander said unaffected by such a clash.

The rest of the lecture flew by quite quickly. Although I did feel Kirks stare burning into the back of my head. Not that it mattered. I was engrossed by the complexities of alien tongue. In comparison, Russian grammar seemed quite decent, and my knowledge of it made me a quick study. This year, our focus would be on Klingon, Vulcan and Romulan. I did have a slight advantage though. Vulcan culture had always intrigued me, so I had begun self-studying the language on my own a year ago. Sadly, I wasn't able to find myself a partner to practice it on. Well… at least not someone who was patient enough and wouldn't judge me for every mistake I made.

When the lesson was over, everyone hurried out of the room. Whilst I took my time to pack my belongings together, hoping that the Professor wouldn't lecture me about appropriate in class behavior. As I walked towards the Commander, he gestured me to take a seat across from him.

"Sir, am in trouble?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral. Diplomacy was a something I was always able to excel at.

"No Cadet. Although the interruptions were unnecessary, it was Cadet Kirk's behavior that was inappropriate. I was merely curious why you would state your first name, knowing the Starfleet regulations?" asked the Professor.

"Oh, I see," I stated dumbly, "I guess you could say that I am related to someone well known. A legacy, if you will. I am not particular on having that known amongst the student body. Nor do I need biases coming from the professors."

"If you do not mind, Cadet, what is your full name?" asked the Commander, his eyes revealing a glint of interest, kindness and understanding. Clearing his throat, it was gone within a second, just as fast as it had appeared.

"As long as you don't go along sharing that information..." I joked slightly with a slight grin, but regretted it as soon as I realized he didn't have understanding of such humour, "My name is Xy'thia-Ksenia Konstantinovna Startseva."

"You are saying, you are related to Vice-Admiral Startsev?" he asked a little surprised.

"My father."

"Very well Cadet Startseva. I understand your desire to keep the knowledge of your family under wraps. You may go now."

Nodding I got up, grabbed my handbag, and left the lecture hall upon being dismissed. To say that I was surprised at the Commander respecting my wishes not be referred by my last name, would be an understatement. From rumour, it always seemed to me that he is the type of person who would follow the rules to a tee. With no exceptions. But perhaps, the Vulcan had a heart with an ability to feel after all. Underneath his cold manner.

Glancing at my holographic watch, I saw the display shine 1226 hours. I wondered if I could make it across campus in four minutes to meet Kalique at the lounge. Otherwise, without me, she wouldn't be allowed in. And I knew how much she loves the food there better than the student cafeteria. But personally I had to admit, there was something soothing about the lounge. It was styled like a Viennese Café from the 20th Century. Stepping into it, was almost like travelling back to another era, and a pleasant wave of coffee hitting your senses could captivate anyone. It was a lovely contrast between the modern, and usually sterile environment that would be provided by Starfleet.

As I walked up to Kalique, who was standing impatiently by the entrance shooting flirtatious glances towards any being she found to be aesthetically pleasing, I started telling her about the interesting lesson I had previously. About Kirk and the ink incident, and most alarming of all, Professor Spock finding out who I was.

"Wait, you _actually_ revealed to him who your father is?" Kalique asked most surprised, as she picked up her cappuccino, gently lifting it up to her lips, her eyes wide.

"It sort of happened K, and I jus-."

"You're becoming weak. The Xy'thia I know is a master of manipulation, who can work around any question and avoid it at all costs. I was certain you'd end up as President of the United Federation of Planets one day." She told me, adding mockingly, "And now, I'm starting to doubt it."

"He's a Vulcan," I retorted, "Not exactly the ideal person to use double speak on. Besides, it's not like the Commander is a student. No. He's a Professor who has access to information about any student."

Kalique wasn't wrong though. This was slightly a hiccup in my plan to keep my identity under wraps. The last thing I needed in my academic career was for people trying to get close to me because of my father. But to me it seemed that the point Kalique was trying to make was that in the future I should be more cautious, otherwise students would start to suspect.

She nodded, understanding what I was saying, proceeding to raise her hand slightly, trying to catch the attention of the waitress. This place had wonderful food, but mainly the fact that it had human servers made the experience even better. The waitress came over, taking our order. My gourmet driven friend asked for a _Roasted Ethereal Leopard_ , whilst I decided to go for the _Baked Solar Musk Deer_. I knew my taste pallet would explode beyond imagination this lunch.

The conversation between Kalique and myself flowed soundly. I found that out of all friends and acquaintances I had made during my last 3 years in Starfleet, she was one of the only people with whom I could genuinely connect heart to heart. Her and Leonard McCoy. But with him however, it was only because he was moody and a goofball, an awfully loud, occasionally obnoxious, combination. Speak of the devil. Just as my mind had drifted to think about Bones, he just appeared out of thin air. But then again, it could have just been me, and my inability to notice and pay attention to my surroundings.

Bones managed to slip into our booth, just as our food arrived. Instead of acting like any decent human being would, and taking the opportunity to order his meal whilst the server was still present, he grabbed the extremely sharp meat knife and fork out of my hand, proceeding to eat my lunch.

"McCoy!" I exclaimed, using his last name to show my annoyance, "That's _my_ solar musk deer. Get your own."

"No can do. I'm a Doctor, damnit, I'm busy."

"Too busy, my ass," I told Bones, imitating his speech patterns, after all, I take Xenolinguistics now. He understood my intention, shooting a knowing smile towards my direction. "We'll see how busy you are when you're bleeding out after I cut you with that meat knife."

"So aggressive, princess. Besides, you should know after taking years of dissection, the blade is way too blunt to cut into human flesh deep enough," Bones winked at me.

Lacking a comeback, the only rational thing I could do in this banter was let out a whining wail, gaining a few strange looks from by passers near our booth. Thankfully it was nobody I knew.

"Now, tell me," started McCoy, trying to divert my attention away from his food stealing behaviour, "Did you get Exobiology as this year's elective? I know how much you were looking forward to it."

"Sadly no. I am now the proud student of Xenolinguistics. It's almost like a dream come true," I said sarcastically, not noticing a certain Commander finishing his coffee a few tables away. "But honestly, I am quite glad that we're covering. I'll at least finish learning the Vulcan tongue."

"Hah! I'm sure you will," shot up Kalique, sensing a need to insert an innuendo into our conversation, "Wouldn't you just love to learn the Vulcan tongue, in a practical manner. Quite fitting considering your Professor.."

It seemed that today was just my lucky day. Just as she uttered that sentence, I noticed the Commander get up hastily, his usually stoic expression carrying an inkling of disgust. Well shit. Vulcan senses, such as hearing are heightened, but it couldn't have been possible for him to hear this conversation. Or could it?

"Fuck," I muttered, look down at the table, the slightest trace of a blush appearing on my cheeks, "You don't think he heard that, do you?" I asked gesturing towards Professor Spock, speed walking out of the lounge.

"Good God, man! The pointy-eared bastard, he's your professor?" laughed Bones. "You're in for a tough year, girly!"


	3. Chapter 3

LOGIC IN PAROXYSMS

 **Chapter III - For Once, Just Trust a Doctor!**

This night, I could barely get any sleep. Absolutely everything in my life seemed fine, up until I was lying in bed with the lights turned off, and suddenly out of nowhere the nighttime anxieties struck. It was completely irrational. This was something I knew consciously, considering there was absolutely no reason to worry about the minor mishaps life had to offer.

The room seemed awfully hot all of a sudden, giving me the illusion I didn't have enough air to breathe. Jumping out of the bed, I flung the stainless steel window open, being hit by a gust of wind from the cool September night. I stared up at the moon, the uninhabited planet reflecting a bright silver light into the dark abyss of the universe. The idea of planet alignment affecting human behaviour had always been a solace to me. It suggested there was indeed a pattern that rationalised our everyday decisions and 'unpredictable' events.

At this point, I wasn't even sure if I got a little bit of sleep, at least physically, whilst my mind had been awake. By the darkness of the sky, I hypothesized it was around 0300 hours. No sane person, with responsibilities in the morning, should have been awake at this time of night. I chuckled slightly at the thought, I most certainly was not a 'sane' person. Sometimes I wondered to myself if I was actually a _person_.

A loud laughter, and crash of a beer bottle coming from cadets returning home from a night out, ripped me out of my thoughts. If I wanted to function in 6 hours' time, something had to be done. Then remembering what my father used to tell me as a teenager when I called him up during a mission at an ungodly hour, occasionally my inability to fall asleep was due to a lack of physical exhaustion. _Could some yoga or stretching do the trick_ , I wondered, as I got into a tree position. I felt a little foolish, but at this point I willing to try anything that would help me fall asleep, my mind was exhausted from staying awake too long.

Following the light exercises, I fell asleep after quite a while. Only to be woken up by the alarm on my PADD, after what seemed to be a few hours later. I did not feel that great, but still forced myself out of bed. I couldn't afford to miss the second day of class. First impressions matter, not matter what anybody says, and it would be dreadful for my new professors to think I was incapable of succeeding in my academics, simply from my lack of attendance.

Today I rushed, and did a terrible job at trying to cover the dark circles under my eyes. That and my slightly swollen eyes gave away my rough night, however I found a solution, deciding to wear my glasses, that gave the illusion I was fully present in the real world. Instead of making myself a healthy breakfast that would keep me energized for the day, I simply grabbed a chocolate croissant with some peppermint tea as I headed to class. At the very least, I was punctual to Professor Spock's lesson. Today I wouldn't have been able to handle a lecture from him.

"Geez, Thia.." mumbled Nyota to me, joining me in the first row, "Don't you look… well rested."

I simply nodded, "My usual sleeping issues."

"Oh I'm sorry. But this isn't the first time I've seen you like this, I would really not want you to repeat what you went through last year." Said Nyota, her brows furrowed in worry. Yeah, me neither Nyota, me neither, I thought to myself, but was only able to manage sending her a sweet smile.

In class, I tried to focus as much as I could, but found myself zoning out the majority of the time. My perfected cursive handwriting resembled something of a chicken scratch, ruining the consistency of my notebook's aesthetic. Although never mind that, hopefully that what I was writing down could be made sense of later.

Even Kirk seemed to register that I was out of it today, he didn't attempt to converse with me, annoy me, or even send looks my way. Halfway through the lecture, my mind went to a standstill, followed by my body as well. I was staring at one area, not acknowledging how appropriate or not that was, letting the ink drip off of my pen splattering the desk in green. That was when I noticed how perfectly symmetrical the Commanders features were. Although I had never attempted to draw a Vulcan before, only humans, I had an uncanny desire to do so now.

I hadn't noticed my mouth was open as I was staring at my professor, until Nyota nudged me gently, whispering "You're drooling..." although I actually wasn't.

That most certainly snapped me out of it. And damn, was that embarrassing. I was certain he noticed it as well. Great, now Professor Spock probably thought I was some type of creep or maniac. Certainly the thought of that made the rest of the lecture drag on like a snail. And boy, believe me, once the class was dismissed I was the first one out the door, because I did not want to be approached by anybody in the class, trying to make some type of lame small talk.

As I walked through the hallway of the academy, averting my gaze from any student or professor, still overwhelmed with embarrassment about Nyota's drooling comment, I bumped into a friend. Well, perhaps, Comrade would be a better term!

"Bozhe moi!" exclaimed Pavel looking rather relieved at seeing me, "I em so heppy zat I found you! I need your help!"

"Sure thing Pasha, I have about 45 minutes before my next lecture. What's up?" I asked, not being able to refuse the 17 year-old, hoping his energy would be able to help me adjust back to reality mentally.

"Vell, the situation is zis: a friend of mine, from Russia, came to wisit for the weekend, so I let him stey in my room. But ven he vas making breakfast zis morning, he accidentally cut himself. Very deep." He explained extremely fast, surprising me for being able to follow along.

"Pavel." I said firmly, giving him a stern look, acting mother. "You have to take him to Med Bay? What were you hoping finding me would help for?"

"I know, I know. But zere iz a problem. He doesn't trast your doctors. I vaz hoping **you** could treat him. You are Russian, he vill like you."

I groaned internally, this was so typical. Nevertheless, I found it was my responsibility, as a future doctor, to help a person in need. Even on days where I struggled to keep myself upright.

"Lead the way, Pavel. If he is seriously injured, liking one's doctor should be the least of the problem."

"Spasibo, Ksenia!" He exclaimed, using the Russian part of my name. "Sank you, so much! I vill buy you dinner. No, even better. I vill _make_ you dinner."

That sentence made me let out a laugh. A genuine laugh, escaping me without a second thought, despite the situation. Pavel Andreivich Chekov was honestly one of the greatest people I have ever met. I wished him nothing but the best of the future.

"You know I can never say no to that. As long as there are piroshki!" I suggested with a slight shake of my upper body.

We arrived at Chekov's dormitory halls. Already, I could hear groans of pain coming from the a few doors down. Pavel's behavior became frantic, he quickened his pace and went to punch in his code to access his shared flat, gesturing me to enter.

The sight that unfolded in front of me, wasn't exactly the worst I have ever seen, but neither could it be categorized as a 'minor accident'. Pavel's friend was on sitting on the couch, clutching his left arm that was tightly bound by a Starfleet issued hand-towel, slowly starting to stain the brilliant white into a crimson as the blood seeped through. I noticed two other towels, in a similar condition, discarded on the floor. Before even inspecting the injury, the amount of blood indicated it was severe. Possibly a cut off finger. _Russians_ , I thought.

The friend, who's name I learned was Sergey, was trembling, both in shock, out of pain and the thought of having to see his own injury. My hands, I sterilized with a bottle of Vodka, that stood on the coffee table, which I assumed was used rather as consumption rather than sterilization. As I slowly started to remove the towel, Sergey winced, making me give him a look of sympathy, but being sprayed by blood was not anticipated by neither of the party, causing my full concentration to go back to the wound. This guy needed stiches immediately. The cut was very deep, having lacerated the skin, fat layer, and reached the muscle. There was nothing I could do in the dorm, and this had to be treated by a qualified professional.

"CHEKOV!" I yelled frustrated at his inability to bring his friend to a doctor, "This is unacceptable. If your friend wants to keep his arm, we are going to the Med Bay immediately! Grab me another towel."

Pavel's eyes widened in fright, I had never raised my voice at him before. The previously used towel tumbled onto my lap, staining my blue dress and legs. Using the new, hopefully clean, towel, I wrapped Sergey's arm as tightly as I could, before helping him get up. At this point, it seemed he was in so much pain that he did not care about where we were taking him.

We got to the Med Bay rather quickly. Only once Sergey was taken off of my responsibility, I noticed my hands were completely drenched in blood, something I hadn't noticed before. Completely carelessly, I wiped them on my dress. It was probably permanently stained by now.

I called Pavel over telling him that we would have a conversation later, and that I would need to give him a small lesson about what was a medical emergency and what could be treated at home. Better safe than sorry, I reminded him.

"I suggest that you stay out here for a little bit, Chekov. I don't think you would want to see what's happening in there." I informed him, knowing exactly the process of getting a cut like that patched up.

"Yes, you are probably right. It is a good thing I do not have class today.. Otherwise I am not sure what Sergey would have done."

"Class, shit!" I cursed, forgetting that I had lecture to get to, as well as the state of my appearance. "I need to go Pasha! I have a lecture now!"

Before I could hear his response, I already dashed off, running out of the Med Bay into the Academy's hall. Thankfully this part of campus was connected. To me it seemed insane how quickly time could pass, after all it seemed to be a matter of half an hour, maybe even less, that this situation occurred in.

As I rushed to class, speed walking, occasionally picking up my pace into a soft jog, I was receiving stares from fellow Cadet's. Some were confused, other's disturbed, worried or disgusted. It was irrelevant. One thing I extremely hated was being late, because it reflected poorly on my effort as a student. My only priority now was getting to Anatomy class as soon as I could.

"Excuse me… Excuse me…" I repeated over and over again as I tried to pass the wave of student's leisurely milling about in the hallway. Slow walkers annoyed me. As I tried to walk around a girl that had striking blue and violet hair, I almost collided with someone.

I let out a gasp, just as I barley halted in front of the extremely tall figure. A millisecond later, my body would have collided with their lean, yet muscular physique.

"Cadet, please be cautious of your movements." Spoke the figure coolly.

My head snapped up, and I was met by the eyes of Professor Spock reminding me of saccharine chocolate and the bitterness of strong coffee, causing me to suddenly take a step back. This meeting was not something I had anticipated. Just then, he was able to see the full view of me.

"Why are you covered in blood, Cadet?" he asked, worry present in his tone, "Are you hurt?"

I could only shake my head slowly, stating softly: "Class. I must get to class.." trying to continue my journey to the end of the hallway.

"You're cannot go anywhere in that state."

"Sir, I can't miss my lecture. I am not the one hurt, I'm in a good state, really."

"Cadet Startseva, step into my office, now." Instructed the Commander, continuing upon seeing my hesitation, "That's an order, Cadet."

Following his instructions, I stepped into his office, sitting down onto the chair without permission, just as the realization of the situation hit me.


	4. Chapter 4

LOGIC IN PAROXYSMS

Chapter IV – Unnatural Positions

A week has passed since the forced meeting in the Commander's office. Since then, thankfully, I hadn't run into any conversations, or interrogations more like, with my Xenolinguistics professor. Commander Spock decided it to be necessary to keep me in his office, questioning me about the situation he found me in. Although I explained the accident to him in a clear and bold manner, he still wouldn't let me go, making me miss two lessons, continuing his questioning. Touching upon something I wish he wouldn't have. My sleep. Or rather lack of it.

The Commander being a 'concerned' member of staff of the Academy, found the well-being of a student to be of importance, or so he claimed. Especially considering I was the Vice-Admirals daughter. My inner voice told me that he was secretly a kiss ass, although it would insinuate that he actually felt something – such as care. Yeah, I scoffed, probably care for his job in the Starfleet ranks. Well, long story short, Professor Spock will be giving me meditation sessions, twice a week, to see whether that would help improve my sleep patterns.

"Boooones!" I wailed stalking into his apartment, "Can you please save me? Put me in a medically induced coma? Give me some viral infection and order me to stay in the Med Bay when I need to go see the Professor?"

"No. For once, maybe the green blooded hob-goblin is right. You yourself said there isn't anything you wouldn't try that would help you sleep better. This here, is 'anything'."

I had called Bones this morning at 5 am because I couldn't sleep, and told him about these 'mandatory' sessions. The Professor is basically forcing me to do this, and although I didn't study Interplanetary Law, I was pretty sure it was against the Apraazot Conventions. McCoy's response to my phone call was something along the lines of: _Damnit princess, I'm a Doctor, not a 24/7 therapist. Night! Well… morning!_

And so I had decided that, it was now a "more appropriate" time of day to come complain to him again. There was no class scheduled for me today, meaning that I had the whole day to attend to my own pleasures. And that was to annoy Bones as much as I could.

"You might be right. Just might…" I answered defeated.

"Of course I am right. I just really want you to be as fit as you can. Although, I must warn you, as a doctor you might not get that much time to sleep in the future."

"But that's different! Sitting in class and needing to understand and memorize concepts is different than treating a patient. I always get filled with a lot of adrenaline, it's almost like a natural energy drink. Don't you remember how well I handled the situation last week with that Russian kid? Or that birth with the Tellarite? Although…that wasn't too much of a pleasant sight." I asked Bones, fishing for compliments.

I received a frown from Bones, "Brag all you want." He told me, "I still have a right to worry about my best friend."

"Awee, I love you too, little one!" I mocked him, however deep down, knowing that statement was true. "And since you claim to be my best friend, I assume you would want to make me happy?" I asked an evil smirk appearing on my face.

"Oh no. What have you come up with now?"

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing bad. I just feel…that both of us could use some physical exercise right now."

"I'm sorry darling, but I don't think of you in that way!" exclaimed Bones with a horrified expression, that ruining his, oh so beautiful features.

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" I told him, before grabbing his arm to drag him out of his apartment. Before going where I had initially intended, which I in no way wanted to reveal to Bones, I had to get some appropriate attire. Meaning that I forced him wait outside my flat, as I grabbed my shoes, leggings, etc., shoving them into my duffel bag. Just in case there wasn't anything for Bones to wear at the studio, I remembered to take a large pair of sweat pants as well.

As we reached our destination, a modern ballet studio, Bones understood what I was about to force him into, sending several profanities into the air, promising revenge. However, in whatever way he planned on getting back at me, it was absolutely worth it. After all, I got to witness the good doctor try to be as graceful as a gazelle for the next two hours – depending on how much he could handle.

I got changed into my white tights, made out a thin, yet completely unrippable material, a rose leotard, and lined my point shoes with gel pads proceeding to tie them onto my feet. My hair I pulled up into a ballerina bun, held together by an automated hairnet, that absolutely ensured my hair to stay in place, regardless of the amount of pirouettes I would do.

Leonard looked grumpy. Either it was because I was forcing him to learn and understand the beauty of dance, or just caused by his impatiens. I pulled out my tutu, that I kept in my own shelf at the studio, handing it to Bones.

"Here you go." I said as I gave it to him.

"I am not wearing that!" he refused, with a murderous glare, one I hadn't yet ever witnessed from him.

"But you **must** wear it." I told him with a completely serious tone, up until I burst out laughing, watching his face flood with relief as soon as that sound left my lips. "I just wanted you to close it for me at the back!"

"Now, come on, ballet is an art both good for the soul and for the body!" rushing onto the dancefloor, excited to teach him one of my most favorite things in the universe. "Let us start with some basic warm up barre exercises. I promise to make it easy, just for you."

At the barre, I taught him the basic positions, but I could tell that Bones was going to struggle, unfortunately he lacked natural flexibility. Long-term dancer's turn out better.

"No Bones, no. You need to keep your knees straight. Your butt tucked, and your stomach in. Remember, shoulders back, keeping your neck straight." I instructed, adjusting his position physically, it wasn't exactly the easiest task in the universe. McCoy had quite the heavy bones.

"Good. Now, repeat my movements exactly." I told him going into a demi-plié, "It's important during this exercise to keep your butt tucked in, you don't want to look like you're sitting down onto a toilet."

I was honestly, very surprised. Bones was a quick study, so the only rational thing was to give him more advanced moves. Relevés and Grand Pliés would do the trick.

"I'm going to teach you a more complex combination." I told him, as I showed the movements, "Two demi-pliés, followed by a grand plié, during which you go into a relevé – you basically have to rise onto the balls of your feet then lower them to the regular position – and come back up again repeating the demi-pliés. Simple."

The lesson went by very smoothly. I was very glad to have done this, it reminded me of my childhood. My parents had always insisted I get taught by Russian ballet teachers, meaning I learned the most complex and intense routines. That did however make me extremely cocky when I started attending an American ballet class, but soon became good friends with the girls, teaching them my favorite moves.

Bones had learned the basic movements of some barre exercise: ronde de jambe, grand battement, fondue, cou-de-pied, and many many more. I would have been lying if I said that I wasn't proud of him, because I was. However, after an hour, Bones was sweating extremely, something that could be described as waterworks was flowing down the side of his face. His breathing was rapid.

"Len, you did great!" I congratulated for getting through my lesson, "'Tis was merely some stretching for me, but I'm glad we did this together. Oh, and remember to take a hot bath tonight, rub your muscles, otherwise you'll be extremely sore. Now, go rest, and you can watch my choreographies."

"You're a terrible person, princess. Damnit, I can barely walk... Rest, my ass," grumbled Bones struggling to walk to get changed back into his regular clothes out of those tights. Speaking of ass, the typical ballet apparel for men was like dream, after all, everything clung to the man's body like a second skin.

The next hour flew by insanely quickly. I always found a difference between practicing my choreographies and warming up. Warm ups always seemed to drag on, and cause never-ending pain – well that only if you were doing it properly. I could see, during my dancing, that Bones enjoyed watching me rehearse way more than actually participating. Couldn't blame him though.

Once I finished and felt completely accomplished, finally being able to achieve this one complicated arabesque move at the end of my choreography, I suggested to grab some brunch with Bones. He was willing to agree to committing murder even, if it meant to get out of the studio. Ah, to think that something like ballet could make a big strong southern man wilt.

"C'mon Bones." I yelled after him, noticing his wide legged walk, similarly to that of a girl after getting her brains fucked out. "Don't be such an infant." I told the doctor, quoting him back.

"Well it's not like I spent an hour, getting my body twisted in the most unnatural positions. Human bodies aren't supposed to experience that. Doesn't your Anatomy professor teach you anything useful?" Bones said defensively.

"Much better than my Molecular Biology teacher! You're just hangry, that's why I'm getting all this attitude. We're going to a chic café, where they have the best grilled sandwiches." I told Bones, knowing how much he loves his grilled cheese. "Oh, and I called some friends as well. I feel like I've been abandoning them lately."

Once we walked into the café, like 5 different figures started waving at us rigorously from the back. I was thankful for that considering I wasn't wearing my glasses and would not have been able to recognize any of my friends. As we walked up to them, Uhura burst out laughing once she saw Bones.

"What on earth happened to your face?" exclaimed Nyota commenting on the post workout blushing glow the doctor had, receiving a glare from Bones. I tried to suppress my laughter by biting down on my lower lip.

Kalique piped in giggling as well: "You, I can understand. Your hairstyle just screams that you came from a ballet session. But McCoy… what was _he_ doing?"

"Didn't you know? I am Xy'thia's new dance partner." Spoke Bones, with a slight glint in his eyes.

The group started muttering fake compliments, mentioning how great it was for him to get out of his box and try something new, assuming that Bones was being completely serious. Being surprised by their acceptance of such a fact, I send a surprised look to Bones and shrugged, deciding to go along with his.

"I was actually asked to perform at the inauguration ceremony of the Academy's new Board Members. We'll see how quickly Bones can catch up to my 15 years of skillful training." I told the group with a wink.

"Oh zat is so wonderful!" exclaimed Pavel, "I love your dancing! Tell me again, why iz it you vant to be a doctor again, when your artistic abilities are so prominent?"

"Because, my dear friend, there is just do much of space I can explore with the arts. As I doctor in Starfleet I will be able to help others, whilst seeing far away galaxies. Otherwise I'll just be swimming in my own imaginations. But once I see the universe, the diversity of my imagination will expand drastically. And then, my arts will become so much better."

* * *

 **Thought's on Ballet Bones? I think it rather suits him!**


	5. Chapter 5

LOGIC IN PAROXYSMS

Chapter V – Not too Vulcan After All

The week flew by extremely fast. My priorities were my academics, keeping up my friendships, and rehearsing my choreographies. The only slight change was that I was now teaching Bones ballet, much to his dismay. But blackmail had always been my strong forte. Usually I would always practice with Nyota, who was an incredible dancer, but this year she had to focus on graduating.

Aside from my sleep problems, and possibly failing Molecular Biology – a subject that did not make any sense to me, it seemed that everything was fine. Today I had a full day of lectures, which was agonizing on a Friday, when everyone longed for the weekend start already. At around 1700 hours, I headed to the library for a quick study session considering I had an hour to kill before having to meet the Commander.

I was bored. Out of my mind. The library was empty, so I didn't even have anyone to talk to. So much for my procrastination habits. Perhaps trying to concentrate at this time of day was a bad idea. It was 1740 hours, but heading to the Commander's office early seemed like a great idea. Once I was outside his door, I sat down in the waiting area, waiting for the scheduled appointment time to pass quickly.

I was nervous. There was just one time where I had been alone with my professor, and that was when he was interrogating me. Meaning that my uncomfortableness was justified. We only exchanged pleasantries after that, but he never attempted to engage in conversation. But for this upcoming meeting, I didn't know what to anticipate, and no amount of Vulcan studies would prepare me for these sessions. After all, these creatures were really hard to read. To take my mind off of things and relax a little, I took out my sketch book and began sketching the scene in front of me, focusing mainly on the figure and features of the Cadet sitting in front of me. He didn't seem to mind, or had not yet noticed.

"Cadet," rang out the strong voice of Professor Spock, who had just arrived to his office as well, "You are early."

Tell me something I don't know.

"I have a kink for being of time, professor," I said jokingly, something he probably did not pick up on, judging by his confused expression. I wondered if he even knew what kinks were.

"Follow me, Cadet," he stated. I obliged, trailing after him like a lost puppy.

The Commander's interior was not something I noticed last time I was in there. But it looked just as one would expect. Lacking personal touch. It was the most generic, Starfleet issued room. The walls were bare, the sterile white screaming at me, as if we were in the Med Bay. This was perhaps something only few doctors could find serenity in, but even I wouldn't have been able to handle doing paper work in this type of environment. A wooden table stood facing away from the window, natural light beaming and illuminating the workspace. The Commander only had 4 pens, each of them identical to each other, with the only difference being the colour. _Typical._

My distaste was obvious, as I looked around the room. Was I really meant to 'meditate' here?

The only thing that caught my eye was the extremely organized book shelf. It was sorted by colour rather genre, author or alphabet. This was so unusual from what I had assumed the professors character was like. He didn't seem like a person who cares for aesthetic.

I was extremely surprised, but wasn't sure if I should ask anything about it. So I simply gawked at the shelf, opening and closing my mouth like a fish, subconsciously gesturing my palm towards the wall.

"It's organized by colour," I stated the obvious, once I noticed the Commander looking at my actions. Expression not changing once.

"Affirmative."

Wow, such a reply. Just like I was hoping for. So I just stared staring back at him, cocking my eyebrow. "My mother organized it. My office seemed a bit … bland for her tastes," elaborated Professor Spock.

Yet another surprise. Who would have thought that? Perhaps not all Vulcan's disregarded the need for beauty in one's environment.

"Please take a seat. I would like to discuss a few points with you, before with start with a practical approach."

"Yeah. I totally agree. Cause I am really not sure what it is you believe you could achieve," I told him, rather bluntly. It came out a little harsh, but I was sure he could handle it – as a Vulcan. Russians don't beat around the bush. Maybe that was one of the tiniest ways we were similar to each other.

"Miss Startseva. In order for the meditation to work, you must be open to it, and believe that it can have a positive effect. Mind over body. The ancient Vulcan meditation techniques, _Wh'ltri_ , are used by many commanding officers that helps them manage control during stressful situations."

"In what way do you believe that this meditation will help me sleep?"

"Last time we met, you informed me that you have nighttime anxieties, correct?" continued the Commander, after I nodded he continued, "Stating that your physical activity is at a high level I looked on the Starfleet Database for your medical history, and in terms of biology everything was chemically balanced. Bringing me to the conclusion that your insomnia most likely stems from mental effects.

"I intend on teaching you _Kya'shin_ , an art of thought controlling emotions rather than emotions controlling thought, and your inability to follow a natural cycle. It should set you free for rational, calm thought, peace of mind and peace within yourself."

The Commander's explanation certainly seemed to make sense. I couldn't argue with it.

"Okay Professor. I will put in my best efforts. After all… I have heard that a certain type of meditation can be used to help suppress the effects of Pon farr? Is that true?"

At the mere mention of Pon farr, Professor Spock's discomfort could be identified immediately from his shifting in his chair, with a darkened expression. It almost looked like the Professor was in pain.

"Cadet, how do you know of this? This Vulcan ritual is a very private matter, even within Vulcan society; it is kept in complete secrecy. We do not even speak of it amongst each other, as that would be considered an extremely inappropriate topic."

I winced at the tone of his voice. It was icy, distant and almost defensive. This gave me the feeling that perhaps I should not have mentioned it.

"We were learning about Vulcan biology. But unlike the many other species we have studied previously, there was no mention about your sexual behavior – aside from the fact you mate every seven years. So, I may have read about it on Starfleet's database..." I admitted.

"Whatever information the Federation may have about this is very limited. And highly classified."

"No kidding... But my curiosity got the most of me, so I had an _associate_ hack into the database," I told him absolutely shamelessly. I knew that even if he reported me to his superiors, no actions would actually be taken against me. I only did this in pursuit of better understanding of this species. Perhaps only raise alarm to secure their information more – which in my opinion they should do.

"For your own sake, Miss Startseva, I will suggest you do not mention your knowledge about this to anyone. We do not discuss it."

I sighed, "Very well, Professor."

This meeting wasn't going in the right direction. I could tell that the Commander didn't approve of my actions. Curiosity was such a human instinct, one that could sometimes lead to trouble. This was evidently his opinion. There was a proverb, the meaning of which originated back in the 16th century, occasionally used present day in the 23rd. _Curiosity killed the cat._ Yet the lesser known is the rejoinder of the statement, something I live by: _but satisfaction brought it back._

"I simply mentioned it, because if that were true, and meditation could in fact suppress your natural instincts, would that indicate it won't be hard for me to master whatever technique you explained before?"

"That I cannot judge at this point. Would you wish to start today with the meditation, now that you know what it will feature?"

"Sure?" I answered, which came out more as a question rather than a response, "Although your office seems hardly the most traditional place to let oneself go..."

"The intonation of your reply indicates uncertainty. If it is due to the environment, I can assure you, it won't take place here."

After determining that I would indeed not mind starting today, the Commander and I were heading towards his hover-car. I didn't however know exactly where we were going. The Professor scanned his biological identifier against the car, unlocking the doors for both of us. His car was exactly like his office. Untouched. And smelled of peppermint with very pleasant undertone of iris.

Neither of us spoke to each other for almost half of the route. It wasn't unpleasant, but I couldn't relax either during the journey.

"Sir, if I may, where exactly are we going?" I inquired not being able to handle the suspense or the silence anymore.

"My apartment," he stated rather as a matter of fact, as if was the most obvious answer to my question. I did contemplate to a little in what way I could have deducted that, even logically. Sure, this may have been a viable conclusion, but there are so many possibilities, meaning that assuming something without further information would have been illogical. Ugh, logic, I never tended to think logically. In fact, others would claim that I am the most emotional people one can meet, especially considering I looked angry all the time.

Except the Commander wasn't quite right. "This is actually my apartment," I stated, laughing half-heartedly once we pulled up to Building VX, where the Presidential Quarters were located.

"That isn't entirely correct. Many other people have apartment's in this building. It's not just yours," the Professor corrected me.

"No, that's not really… You know what, it's just a human thing. We tend to associate familiar surroundings as our own," I explained to him. I would need to note how literal Vulcan's can actually be, if I were to be in their presence.

"Fascinating," said the Commander getting out of the car.

Once we were in the elevator, heading to the 12th floor, he inquired about the location of my room, and why I was living in this building. I understood his interest. This building was where the professors, other members of faculty, and Starfleet's higher ups lived. Hence the quality was much better.

This was something I preferred over living with students in their dorms. They were always loud, rowdy, with constant distraction, parties and other forms of entertainment.

I followed the Commander into his apartment. It was almost identical to mine, from the first impression, only a little smaller and much more organized. I noticed immediately that he had two pictures of his family. One in a more leisurely, relaxed atmosphere, the other seemed official, professional, almost diplomatic styled. The expressions of the people were the same – stoic. The only anomaly was a woman's, who I assumed was his mother, features. Contrary to the Vulcan's, her features were radiating with warmth and kindness, as she beamed in the first picture. Although the second was more reserved, a heartfelt smile was still present.

This revelation was honestly shocking. Either I was mistaken about the woman's identity, or Spock's mother was … _human_. That would explain the occasional traces of emotion underneath the cool demeanor.

I wanted to ask him, but, ironically enough, I wasn't sure whether that would be appropriate. Maybe, once the Commander let down his barrier of professionalism. I did feel like it was a little strange for him to know all of this personal information about me, mainly my struggles, whilst he stayed in a layer of undissolved mist.

Professor Spock told me to take a seat and wait for him to get the meditation room ready. At the mere mention of him having a separate room just to meditate, caused me to give him a look as if he grew another head, but then I remembered; I shouldn't expect typical behavior from him.

I took a seat at the table, methodically, considering I didn't know how long it would take him and took out my sketch book. The last thing I was drawing was another portrait of Kalique, which she absolutely begged me to make.

"You are very talented," came the voice from Professor Spock suddenly, causing me to jump up, out of my chair. I did not hear him approach.

"Holy shit, sir. You scared the living crap out of me!" I cursed

"I apologize for that. Might I request you to call me Spock. We are no longer in an academic environment."

No, we most certainly weren't. Quite apparent by the change of clothes of Spock. I observed he was no longer was he wearing the typical grey uniform I got accustomed to seeing on professors. Instead, Spock opted for a thin, white, see-through tunic over black slacks, completed with a green-brown hooded robe that reflected with gold tones with each movement he made. It was typical Vulcan.

Him wearing that outfit made Spock seem to radiate much more power and natural grace. I had to admit, it made him look quite charismatic.

"Only if you call me by my name as well, Spock," I told him, intrigued by the Vulcan standing in front of me. "And yes, I've been drawing ever since I can remember."

"Quite intriguing the skillset's humans have been able to acquire over time. Could I see what else you have created in that book as well?" asked the Commander, extending him hand towards me, an unusual movement since he usually kept his hands behind his back.

I hesitated. Not because nobody had seen my work or anything, it was just simply because I have a tendency to draw people without their knowledge. But after a while I gave in, hoping Spock would only flip through some pages and get bored, deciding not to proceed further.

And boy was I wrong. He began at the first page, how logical, observing some of the classical contemporary architecture, gothic and ancient Greek and Roman designs I drew, commenting on the detailing. Spock continued looking through my journal very attentively, and offered me some type of unheard beverage, which I cautiously declined.

It seemed like this meeting turned more into a social call. I wasn't sure how long I had been at Spock's apartment, but it started to become dark very slowly. At one point of his venture, the Commander reached the content I was hoping had evaporated once he touched my sketchbook. The drawings I made of him during a few lectures. I did however explain to him, saving my ass, that I was very interested in the Vulcan physique, and was interested in seeing if I could transfer that onto paper.

"Xy'thia, is this what you have been focusing on during my lectures?" he asked, his lips quivering almost into a smile, nevertheless keeping a disapproving tone, causing me to blush. I wondered if my foundation had worn off by this time of day, and if it was indeed visible.

"Well, if the question is if I have been paying attention and focusing on the professor, then yes. I think that statement's interpretation is up to the person receiving it," I told him with a wink.

"As long as this doesn't impede with your learning in the process. How is your progress with Vulcan?"

"I ma oren-tor vuhlkansu na' wuh tevun i', ni t'nash-veh fai-tukh nam-tor weht do ik t' wuh mohrn," I responded to his question in his native tongue. Roughly translating to _I have learned Vulcan for over a year now, so my knowledge is more than that of the class_.

"Sem-rik. Du stariben ish-veh rom. Po did du ri var-tor me fa'?" asked the Professor meaning _Fascinating. You speak it well. Why did you not mention it before?_ This made me laugh.

"I wasn't even meant to take Xenolinguistics, I am a science major after all," I continued in English, not being able to express myself further, "And I also didn't want to be that one person…you know?"

"I do not, knowledge is not something you should have to hide. Perhaps, it's even a good thing you know the language, you could be of use during the lectures."

"Don't be mistaken Professor, I know the basics and am able to communicate somewhat, I'm not how much help I could be."

"You'd be surprised what students can pick up from each other, rather than a teacher. And perhaps it would be valuable to have you inform me of…

"I am open to this proposition, Spock."

We continued with our conversations – although it was rather distant, I did start to picking up on a few of Spock's mannerisms that were very specific to him. However, after the Commander finished looking through my portraits, landscapes, architecture, still life drawings, I wasn't sure if we were to resume back to the intended purpose of the meeting: meditation.

"Sir, it's almost 0830 hours. It's a little late for me to be here, right? Don't you have anything else to be doing?"

"No, Cadet. Aside from meditation, I do not have any previously scheduled engagements. I do not see any reason why time would be such a problem, you live in the same building, so logically, returning to your room shouldn't be a problem."

We headed to Spock's meditation room, and began with the intended exercise.

* * *

 **I'm so confused which spelling I should use, British or American. My heart goes to British but my laptops settings are on American. I figure I switch between the two in some chapters.**

 **Who has some good predictions on what will happen in the next chapter during and after the meditation session?**


	6. Chapter 6

LOGIC IN PAROXYSMS

 **Chapter VI – An Active Saturday**

I woke up very suddenly, almost out of shock. Everything felt out of place, starting from the environment I was in, the clothes I was wearing, to the smell in the room. But regardless of that, I felt refreshed. Opening my eyes, I let them adjust a little to the light in the room. I did not need long for that.

"It's about damn time, princess," I heard the voice of Bones coming from the other corner of the earthy brown and orange room, causing memories from last night with Professor Spock to flood back.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired him quizzically, as if his presence was the only out of ordinary aspect in this situation. "What time is it?"

I sat up, trying to understand what the situation was exactly, scanning my surroundings. I was still in the Commander's meditation room, I guess his Vulcan techniques were so effective I fell asleep there and then. The room itself has a very calm, relaxing, sleepy atmosphere to it. Although it was the colour and design could be blamed for that aspect. It reminded me of an Oasis.

Considering the circular structure of the room, I figured Professor Spock had his apartment connected to one of the four towers, which were a unique, identifying mark of this building, and placed his meditation room in there. The windows were huge, but kept the room dimly lit from golden curtains keeping the light out. The deep brown hardwood floors were covered by a fluffy white rug, that contrasting complement to the orange, red tapestries hanging on the wall.

Although I slept on the carpet, I had never been so comfortable in my life. Perhaps it was from the softest, fluffiest pillow I ever got to lie on. I assumed that it isn't possible for it to have originated on earth. Or maybe, it was from the fact that I wasn't wearing my clothes.

"What the fuck is this?!" I exclaimed looking down at myself, jumping up and heading towards Bones, "Why and more importantly _**how**_ am I not wearing my clothes?"

What I was wearing, I knew was Vulcan. It was a purple-green loose fitting robe that covered the entirety of my body. Although everything about the material indicated that it was cotton, the feeling of it resembled silk more. It kept me both warm throughout the night, but let my body cool with it as well.

"Don't worry about it. Last night, Spock called me once you fell asleep, unsure of what to do, and asked me to come over and maybe help. He wanted to take you back to your room, but I told him that it's better we don't disturb your sleep – and he found that to be "logical". But when I went to get you a change of clothes, your roommate wasn't there, which is why you're wearing that Vulcan's costume."

"That's super _rude_ , doc!" I interrupted him smirking, "I'm pretty sure the Vulcan's feel the same about your fashion choices."

"You're not wrong. Nobody likes my fashion choices either way, dammit," grumbled Bones rolling his eyes, "But you have nothing to worry about, it wasn't the green-blooded Hobgoblin who changed you."

That was such a relief. It was awkward enough I fell asleep in my professor's apartment, but it would have been one of the most embarrassing situations if he undressed me as well. Not to mention extremely inappropriate.

"Is that a derogatory term, doctor?" asked the Commander appearing in the room absolutely unheard. He should start wearing a cow bell to inform people of his presence.

"No Spock, no. It's a compliment," replied Bones ever so sarcastically, I did however fear that the Professor may have believed him.

"He's lying!" I butted in, "Oh, shit, no. Wrong choice of words. He's making a joke." I clarified, my brain slowly starting to wake up with my body as well. That gained an absolutely disgusted look coming from McCoy's direction.

"Very well. Understood. I made an extremely popular drink amongst you humans that is usually consumed in the morning hours. Do you wish for some, Xy'thia?"

"Awe! That is so sweet of you Spock!" I cooed at him, not having registered yet that I was addressing my superior. I had two moods in the morning, murderous or exuberant. Today's was the latter. Following him into the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and winced.

"Bones," I hissed quietly, "Why the fuck did you not tell me I look like crap?" I asked trying to fix my appearance slightly.

"Why do you care? You like fine..." he asked eyeing me suspiciously

The Commander gave us two steaming cups of black coffee, which I assumed was one of like lesser time making it, judging by the taste. I struggled to swallow my first sip.

"You don't have any sugar, or milk, do you, _sir_?" I asked adding the formality just for the sake of Bone's presence.

"No _Cadet_ , I do not. I could offer you some stevia leaves instead. Would that be satisfactory?"

"I'll take it, honestly," chuckling slightly at Spock's word choice.

I found that anything could improve this coffee, considering at the moment it tasted like bean water. Not that I have ever been a huge fan of coffee to begin with, but this wasn't the most pleasant thing to consume.

"Well, I have stuff to do," exclaimed Bone's all of a sudden, "There has been an emergency, and I'm needed at the Med Bay."

Bones grabbed the Stevia out of Spock's hand, adding five or six spoonful's into his coffee. "Thank you. I'll give you the cup back whenever," he continued, addressing Spock, and rushing out of the apartment.

I grimaced at Bones's actions. Stevia was a natural plant, but extremely sweet, meaning that one spoon would have been more than enough for him. How ironic would it be for a doctor to develop diabetes.

"I should probably go as well." I said once I finished my drink, "I'm certain Kalique is wondering where I was all night," but considering her personality, she would assume I got some on a Friday night – that or I was murdered.

"Absolutely. I sent your clothing to the dry-clean service downstairs, so you can stay in the robes. Feel free to bring them with you in the future, they could help you connect to Vulcan and master the art of our meditation better."

"Sure thing, sir. Have a good weekend. See you on Monday," I told him, grabbing the rest of my belongings, walking out his door.

I hoped that on a Saturday there wouldn't be that many people commuting in the building. But it was almost noon, so my luck was slim. As the elevator door opened, it revealed about 8 different Starfleet officers, some of which I knew. All of them were eyeing me curiously, although that wasn't a big surprise considering my outfit.

"Good morning, Captain Pike," I greeted a good friend of my fathers who had been over for dinner at our house every other week throughout my childhood.

"Ksenia! How nice to see you!" he replied, who was yet another person who tended to use my Russian name, "How've you been?"

"Quite well, thanks. What about you? How is your wife?"

"Same old, same old. If you get my joke," he laughed attempting to make me laugh. "But tell me, are those Vulcan clothes you are wearing?"

"Yeah… they are. Commander Spock lent them to me. You see, I was … um.. I was meditating?" I answered completely unconvincingly.

Although he nodded, before I exited the elevator, he whispered very lowly in my ear that student teacher relationships were prohibited according to protocol, but he was glad that I was getting some _love_.

"No! That's not.. You understood it wrong.." I tried to tell him before the doors shut, closing my sight from a smirking Pike. I sighed. Perhaps he was right that this is what it seemed like to the people who had witnessed this exchange in the elevator.

I punched in my 6-digit code to my room before scanning my biometrics, wondering whether Kalique was home or not. Just as the vacuum of the door opening sounded, I was attacked by Kalique who expressed how worried she was about me, bombarding me with questions.

"You never stay at someone else's place. Like ever! I don't think I have ever witnessed you go around to a guys.. Do you even have sex?"

"It's disgusting – to sleep in some else's home. I really need to know the person before doing that," I answered her, avoiding the last question at all costs.

"The where did you sleep then? And what's up with that outfit choice – it look awfully familiar?"

"Before you jump to any conclusions, I should mention it was strictly professional, and completely an accident. I was at Professor Spock's apartment."

"What the fuck?" she exclaimed with a horrified expression, "Look, when I made that joke about Vulcan tongue, I thought you knew I was just _joking_. Why would you sleep with your professor? Especially one with no feeling–"

"You know, I think he might be half human–"

"Still not a justification!"

"Okay, listen to me, I went for a meeting after class, because he said he could help me with my sleeping problem. So we went back to Spock's apartment to meditate. Purely professional, even Bone's was there. Well… once I fell asleep."

" _Meditating._ Is that what you kids call it now-a-days? And Spock, huh, first name basis?" Kalique teased me, only resulting in my Russian side to come out, shooting her a glare that would have obliterated her if looks could kill. "Okay, fine… I'll stop. Now, what are we going to do today?"

"Let's go skydiving!" I exclaimed suddenly getting a wave of energy in me, getting all excited running around in the living room using the robe as a cape, falling onto the couch in hysterical laughter.

"Tell me again how this isn't happy post sex behavior… Or you finally just went crazy," muttered Kalique almost inaudibly to herself. "How about you start with a shower first, and I'll come up with some fun activity instead."

Agreeing with her I stripped off my robe in the middle of the living room, leaving her stunned. I expected myself to be in my undergarments, but I wasn't. Bones was so going to pay for this!

"Jeez Thia! When did you have that taken care of last?" she exclaimed horrified, indicating towards my neither region. I guess I was wrong after all; you certainly didn't do the do with you know who."

"So rude. What if I prefer to be all naturelle?"

"You might … but I don't know a male specimen who would. Well, actually, the Kazon do, but I don't think they're your type. Go shower, and feel free to use my new razor."

I stepped into my large en-suite bathroom, deciding I would run a bath instead of a quick shower. Throwing in some chemically synthesized rose petals into the half-filled tub, turned the water a bright red, which made the bathroom smell like a I was surrounded by fields of millions real roses. I've always dreamt of finding myself in such a setting, the Garden of Eden of romance.

Soaking in the tub, my mind travelled to yesterday's events. When Spock and I started meditating, or more specifically when Spock started meditating, instructing me to follow a series of steps with him, I could only perceive the silent reflecting and acting a little ridiculous. However, once I found my space and was able to control myself from giggling the whole time, which I really wanted to do, the time seemed to fly by, relaxing me in the process. Relaxing and zombifying me to such an extent that I fell asleep without noticing or meaning to.

I did have moments where I observed Spock for a while. I wondered how it would be like to be like him, in control of himself and his emotions. If the Commander mastered mind over body, did that mean he chose mind over heard as well? Dressing in clothes from his planet made him seem almost like a deity, and I found him very compelling. From an artistic point of view, of course. I had to admit to myself, I was looking forward to seeing him next time for our one-on one session. Spock was much easier to communicate with when it wasn't in a professional context, although I had to remind myself that it wasn't easy, but nevertheless easier.

Once I stepped out of the bath, and dried myself off with my fluffy baby blue towel and put on my robe, I went into the living room, only to find _all_ of my friends in my apartment gathered around a variety of weapons. This was certainly Kalique's doing, who seemed to plan and organize an invasion within the hour.

"Look who finally decided to join us!" chanted Kalique, once she noticed me, and hopefully my completely confused and worried expression. "Go get dressed, I put something out on your bed. You're the only person we're waiting for."

As I looked around the room, I noticed everyone's outfits. Kalique opted for a skin tight, scale encrusted bodysuit, that showed off her curves and supported her movements. Nyota was wearing extremely tight elastane pants, with thigh-high boots and a holographic corset along with a hooded cape jacket. Everyone had gun holster's strapped to some part of their body, so the only thing I could assume was that we were going to have a very active Saturday.

"Okay okay, but don't rush me. I'm actually really hungry," I exclaimed rushing into the kitchen to grab a bagel, before I headed to me room to get dressed.

It didn't take long for me to devour my late breakfast, faster than it was to get into the 'extremely comfortable' choice of outfit. Surprisingly what Kalique chose of me had both fashion and function elements to it. The faux leather jeans had ruched knee panels, along with olive green strips of belt sewn onto them. It matched perfectly with the moss low-cut top, and an embroidered, studded leather jacket, matched with heavy combat boots. This was so unlike my style but I looked badass, ready to take on the world.

Once dressed, each one of us were handed a phaser, and a laser pistol. We were given the choice, depending on our preferences, to have one as our main weapon and the other as a backup. The only difference being the time our ammunition would get recharged.

"Ze game rules are simple…" started Chekov, who has actively been engaging in this type of weekend activity for years as it turned out, and was the main moderator of this session. In a nutshell, we were going to be playing laser tag in the courtyard of the Academy's housing.

* * *

 **Sorry guys that I've been so inactive. My final exams are coming up in three weeks and I am stressed af!**

 **Nevertheless, I got to editing a few chapters this morning during my free periods.**

 **What do you guys think about Captain Pike's attitude? Some foreshadowing, or what? ;)**

 **I personally absolutely love the idea of Spock letting Xy'thia keep the Vulcan robes. Bet he thought she looked really hot in them!**


	7. Chapter 7

LOGIC IN PAROXYSMS

Chapter VII – Kirk Why Must You Always Cause Problems!

Over the course of the following month, I got back to my typical routine, with the exception of seeing Professor Spock twice a week at his apartment in the evenings. Sometimes our meeting were successful, other times I stayed there for hours, returning back to my own place late in the night. Some people had seen me, mainly instructors I have had in the past, coming out of his room that only resulted in getting eyed suspiciously, yet nobody commented on anything. Perhaps it was due to the Commander's proper Vulcan nature, so nobody dared voice their assumptions.

I found that I enjoyed being in his company, probably due to the calm and collected nature he expressed. It was a fantastic contrast to what I was used to. My family was always crazy, loud, expressive, and I chose my friends who also somewhat fit into that category.

Regarding my studies, although Kirk had chosen the Xenolinguistics elective for me, I was glad he did. It was refreshing to have a class where everything wasn't scientifically oriented, which actually enabled me to learn and become more open minded. My somewhat decent knowledge of Vulcan did sometimes make the basic teachings a little bit boring, up until Professor Spock mentioned to the class that starting the following lesson I would be his second hand, so that a student could perhaps get some knowledge drilled into their thick skulls. The Commander never actually said anything _like_ that, but that was surely what he meant. I knew he was getting a little frustrated with this class.

So emotional, I thought to myself sarcastically.

Throughout this lecture, my mind drifted to one awkward interaction I had with Captain Pike. I wasn't sure what I should do exactly about it, I felt that Nyota would be able to help me, but I didn't really want to risk anything with the Professor's heightened Vulcan hearing. So I ripped out a page out of my notebook, writing: _Nyota, I need your advice on something_ _._ One she read it, she mouthed to me, "I can't read this…"

Of course, not that many people could make out my cursive. In print I rewrote the previous statement, adding: _Captain Pike saw me leaving Professor Spock's apartment in Vulcan clothing once, and has brought up the topic of me sleeping with the Commander several times now. What do I do?_

Once Nyota read my note, her head snapped to me, a shocked expression and her mouth hanging open. "Well are you?" she whispered, clutching my note as if it held nuclear codes on it.

"No." I shook my head, "It's all a misinterpretation of events. He won't listen to _me_ though. I'd rather he not think that, and casually mention in to my father during one of their guy's nights. My father wouldn't approve, even if it's not true, and I'd never hear the end of it."

"Maybe talk to the Professor, tell him this situation. He might want to have words with the Captain. I'm pretty sure he'll bring up protocol and legal … stuff."

"Yeah you might be right. The question is how though." I said rhetorically, gesturing for the note back, "I should burn this."

However, before I could take the note from Nyota's hand, it was intercepted by some big male hand behind up. Neither of us were quick enough to respond to the situation and Kirk read what I had written. A naughty gleam, and smirk, breaking onto his features.

"No way! You and pointy-ears? If that's the type of men you're into, no wonder you rejected me." He whisper-yelled chuckling slightly, "This information is absolutely wonderful."

Just then it registered that Kirk could possibly use this against me. Nyota seemed to get the message as well, both of starting to curse him for invading someone's privacy and threatening him, would he decided to share this information with anyone, not noticing that our voices gradually had risen from a whisper. Almost everyone in the lecture call, except for some students at the back who were dozing off, were staring at us wide eyed.

But best of all, Kirk looked a little taken aback from being verbally, and rightfully so, attacked by two females. Two hella good looking, independent, strong women.

"You again." Boomed the voice of Professor Spock, "This is that third disruption you have caused in my class this term. Expect me to write up an incident report. Three of you, stay behind after class."

Although Spock's expression was as stoic as ever, I could tell he was beyond displeased. The amount of time I had spent with him lead me to be able to distinguish the slightest changes in his tone, facial expression – usually his eyebrows and ears, which any other human would seem unchanged.

"Thanks Kirk." I growled, shooting him a death glare, before returning back to my notetaking, "Have fun explaining to the Commander what this was about."

However, to Nyota, I sent a nod, telling her that we weren't in deep shit. Because if we were, she would have probably picked up on it as well.

After class, I was really unsure of what to expect. Kirk was quite unpredictable, most of his decision being rationalized by god knows what inside his brain, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Especially now that he assumed I was sleeping with the Professor and I wasn't sure how exactly to explain to him that I wasn't. Perhaps, that attempt would just be a waste of time.

Once the three of us stood at the bottom of the lecture hall after everyone left, there was an awkward silence, nobody daring to speak. I let out an audible sigh, leaning my back against the surface of the wall, crossing my arms.

"Sir, I would like to apologize on behalf of everyone," I started, once I understood neither Nyota or Kirk knew exactly what to say, "I understand this is not the appropriate way to act during a lecture."

"No, it is not." Spock agreed. "I would expect better. You are training to be Starfleet officers and should behave accordingly. It is my belief that that all three of you should face conseq–"

"Wait, Professor, neither Uhura or Xy'thia should be held responsible for this. It was entirely my fault." Spoke out Kirk all of a sudden.

"Do elaborate, Cadet."

"I intercepted a private message between those two, which had very personal information in it. I can't say I regret it, that was some spicy stuff!" exclaimed Kirk with a smile, looking around the three of us, "But still, you get my point Professor… I hope."

"Very well. Cadets you are dismissed."

Both Nyota and Kirk didn't need to be told twice, wanting to escape this troublesome interaction with the Professor. I however, following the advice I got from Nyota, decided that perhaps I should talk to the Commander, considering both of us were placed in a particular awkward situation by Captain Pike.

"Professor Spock," I started once Nyota and Kirk left the room, causing the door to close with a loud thud that echoed through the empty hall, "There is something I need to talk to you about."

"Go on Cadet, I have exactly 12.7 minutes," he stated making me grimace slightly at the exact detail, making me doubt whether I should bring this us at all.

"I don't.. I'm not exactly sure how I could phrase this properly. But Christo- um, I mean Captain Pike, thinks that we have something going on."

The Commander slightly furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't understand, Cadet, we do have 'something going on'. I am your professor, and I have been giving you meditation lessons outside the classroom. What exactly are you referring to?"

"Not in that sense," I smiled a little, still trying to keep it …. "He thinks that we have something more – that we have become involved with one another, like sexually."

At that explanation, Spock choked a little bit on air, trying to compose himself quickly, but a slightly green tint appeared at the top of his ears. "I understand now, Cadet. What lead him to such a conclusion?" he asked, so I explained the sessions at his apartment, leaving in the morning in Vulcan robes and so on.

"Considering human nature, it is logical for him to come to such a conclusion, but his assumptions have no basis or evidence."

"Tell me something I don't know. In our time together, I have started to consider you a friend, but I don't think I would _ever_ start developing feelings for you romantically." I told him, but as soon as those words left my mouth, I felt a pang in my heart. How unusual, I thought, I was just telling Spock what I thought was the truth. I couldn't imagine dating the Commander. But how interesting would that relationship be?

A slight smile tugged on the corners of his lips, "I must say I agree with your statement. I also think of you as friend, Xy'thia. But I suggest you do not worry about the Captain, he must be aware that such relations are against protocol."

"Perhaps you would like to join me for lunch today at 1330 hours, with my friends Kalique and Doctor McCoy? Perhaps it's better for the Captain to see that our relationship isn't professional anymore but doesn't cross the friendship barriers. He'll be in the lounge at that time." I suggested, hoping deep inside me that he will accept.

"If you feel that is appropriate, I won't refuse the offer," he nodded.

Both of us were leaving the lecture hall to carry on with our business. Unusually so, Spock's hands were to the side of him, so as I went to adjust the bag on my shoulder, my hand brushed slightly against his. The sensation that passed through me was like being hit with static electricity, causing me to jump slightly away from the Commander, wide eyed. Although his expression remained unchanged, the only exception was his clenched jaw and ears that turned a deeper green shade than I encountered before.

Neither of us said anything more, except for biding each other our goodbyes. The next lesson I had was dissection, that way I could relax a little bit and process my thoughts properly. To me, dissection was a form of meditation, not sitting in a room filled with incense. It really bothered me that Kirk thought the same thing as Captain Pike, and took the blame for today's incident. There was no way he did this out of the kindness of his heart. There was bound to be a quid pro quo.

Today we were dissecting a pig's heart. Nothing too exciting for the class, considering we always hope for some extraterrestrials, but extremely useful in understanding human heart functions. I did not partner up with anyone, preferring to be left in my thoughts today. Putting on my latex gloves, I took a cold heart that I found most appealing with visible veins stretching through the entirety of it. It was no larger than my hand, and didn't carry a particularly appealing aroma. Starting with a pair of scissors, I cut through the side of the pulmonary artery and continued cutting down into the wall of the right ventricle.

I knew the heart pretty well. At one point of my life I desired to specialize and become a cardio surgeon, so I spent a very extensive amount studying everything there was to know about hearts in humans and humanoid species. Once I opened the internal structures of the heart, there were several large blood clots inside the chambers. Taking them out, I placed them onto my tray. One of the satisfying part of working with fresh hearts. From that point on, I was doing my initial observations about the thickness of the ventricle, the network of irregular muscular cords on the inner wall of this chamber, basically the things one can do in their sleep.

My mind wandered to the previous conversation with Professor Spock. Quite fitting with the dissection lesson, I couldn't understand why I felt my heard drop. Usually that feeling was when human's experienced intense emotions that transferred into physical. Such as heartbreak or a stab of love. But I knew that I couldn't be experiencing either. Sure, I cared for Spock as a human being – well Vulcan being, to be more specific, but like I told him previously, I wouldn't crush on in.

Surely, I had to admit to myself, there was something captivating about Vulcan's, almost sexy. Spock was a very intelligent, attractive in a non-traditional way, and an interesting disposition. Besides, I don't know how I would date a Vulcan. Do they even date? In the recent century the concept of interspecies relationships had become more prominent, but not that it mattered. I was not crushing on Spock. Even if my subconscious, and therefore my body was telling me otherwise – that I did indeed have some type of attraction towards him. _Which I did not._

Perhaps, as long as I kept the intention of being just friends with him, being certain Spock held the same position, everything was going to sort itself out. The universe had plans for all of us.

* * *

Hi guys, sorry for such a long wait! I am in the middle of finals right now. It's crazy that I am almost done and that graduation is in a month!

So what do you think will happen between the X and S? Will they stay friends? Friends with benefits? I am totally not foreshadowing anything.


End file.
